Recipe For Disaster
by JleeBean
Summary: [5] The tables have turned against mentor and mentee, and now Ryoma finds himself having to take cooking lessons from Sakuno. Could this be the chance for feelings to awaken? Or is it all just one big disaster waiting to happen? RyoSaku.
1. The Ultimatum

A/N: Taking my first big step into the TeniPuri fandom... with a non-yai fic, no less! Don't get me wrong, I've got nothing against yaoi (I'm pretty partial to the Golden Pair myself), I just think the fandom's seriously lacking in the RyoSaku fics. So here's my little contribution. It's nothing much, and it probably sucks, but, well, here you go.

I apologize beforehand if Ryoma seems a little OC (he _does_ speak an awful lot in this fic), but I personally don't think it's _that_ drastic...

Ooh, also, timelines suck. Don't even ask me where this would fit it (cuz your guess is as good as mine).

But enough of my rambling. Here's hoping you like!

* * *

**Recipe For Disaster**  
Chapter One: The Ultimatum  
By Jonah

* * *

Very few things dared to get in the way of Echizen Ryoma and his tennis. Those stupid enough to try either got a well-aimed tennis ball to the head, or the threat of having a well-aimed tennis ball to the head (or some other trajectory Ryoma may have had handy at the time). Either way Ryoma made clear that tennis was his life, and to get between him and his life will only result in a very angry tennis prodigy, who'll have to make up for lost time by using your head as a ball instead.

But there were certain things, Ryoma would be quick to find, that even a genius can't get around.

"'Failed'?"

"Yes, Echizen-san, _failed_."

Ryoma blinked. Failed. In all his life, Ryoma could only remember failing twice, and both times it was at tennis. He never held school at the same regard as the sport (because, really, tennis had no equal), but he didn't exactly slack off either. He did his homework like any other student, and usually at an exceptional level.

But this…

"How can anyone fail _cooking_?" came Horio's baffled cry, which would have been too loud and just that tad bit insulting, if Ryoma bothered enough to care.

As it was, he merely shrugged the comment off, as easily as he shrugged his uniform off in favor of his usual practice clothes. On the other side of the fence, Horio busied himself by mulling over Ryoma's predicament, as if it were something to even worry about. So what if he failed? Students failed all the time. Ryoma's world was not ending.

Wordlessly grabbing his racket from his bag, Ryoma turned at his heel, fully prepared to ignore Horio for the rest of the afternoon. He thought maybe if he hit the ball hard enough against the wall, the sound might drown out Horio's inevitable babbling.

The tennis prodigy eased into his stance, eyes glazing over with that fire he reserved only for the courts, lifted his hand to serve…

When Horio's voice cut through the air like a scorching knife through melted butter.

"Gee, I hope you can still play at the tournament next month."

Ryoma jolted, actually jerked in his place, before blazing eyes turned to the other boy, who immediately recoiled with something akin to fear. "What the hell are you talking about?" came Ryoma's clipped question.

"W-Well…" Horio hesitated, only adding fuel to Ryoma's steadily growing impatience. Right when he finally needed the boy to say something, he chooses to shut up!

"Spit it out already," he all but growled, making the other boy squeak a bit before his words came out in a flurry.

"I'monlysayingplayersusuallyneedapassinggradeinalltheirclassestoplay!" Horio gulped. "That's all…"

Ryoma stared at him, long and hard. The tennis ball in his hand spun with practiced ease as he thought the new information over.

Horio, sensing the prodigy's surfacing doubt, quickly blurted out: "But I'm sure that won't be the case for you! B-Being one of Seigaku's star player and-and all…"

The more Ryoma thought about it, the more Horio began to make sense. _Surely_ the old lady wouldn't let a simple thing like cooking get in the way of their chances of winning…

x

"No dice."

Stupid Horio.

Sumire shrugged casually, even as Ryoma gaped at her in muted disbelief. "I'm sorry Echizen, but as long as you have a failing grade, I can't let you play."

"I _have_ to play," Ryoma bit out curtly. There was simply no other way around it.

But the old lady merely shrugged again, flicking off a speck of dust on her jersey in her indifference. "Then pass the class. That was just a progress report, wasn't it? You still have time to pick it up." She stared at Ryoma's glowering visage, light amusement dancing behind her eyes. "What class are you failing anyway?"

If possible, Ryoma's expression grew even darker. "Home economics."

His face grew practically livid at the immediate laughter that followed. "It's not funny!"

Sumire tried her best to control herself (really, she did), but the thought of Seigaku's tennis prodigy, _the_ Echizen Ryoma, son and heir to Echizen Nanjirou's tennis throne… failing _cooking_? Buddah himself would laugh.

But eventually her mirth faded, and when she was only resolved to but a few giggles here and there, Sumire placed a hand on the boy's shoulder and said (sans giggles), "Cooking isn't that difficult. A few hours of practice and you'll pass that class with ease."

Tell him something he _didn't_ know. Of course Ryoma knew how easy cooking was (hell, if his Oyaji could manage a decent meal or two, he sure as hell can). It was just the 'few hours of practice' part that was the problem. Ryoma only really spent his free time practicing tennis (usually in the form of rigorous one-on-ones with his Oyaji), and all other hours were devoted to homework, eating, and sleeping (with the occasional video game thrown in, if he was feeling especially generous).

"I don't have time," he stated very plainly, with the kind of tone adults usually reserved for lies that were pretty big, and pretty necessary.

Sumire, however, was apparently a very sly old bat. "Right," she said. She turned slightly, a thoughtful look on her face before she smiled and reached out to flick the bill of his cap with her finger. "I'm afraid I can't allow a regular to miss that tournament, especially for something as silly as grades—"

For a moment, Ryoma thought he could hear the angels sing.

"—so everyday after practice I want you to head over to my house for cooking lessons."

But it wound up just being the sound of his luck nose-diving into the ground.

"…_You're_ going to teach me how to cook?" came his dubious reply, simply for a lack of anything better (or insulting) to say.

The sudden bark of laughter that followed his words was not the reaction he'd been expecting. "Me? Heck no! No, my granddaughter will be teaching you," she said, hurriedly whipping out a pen and paper and scribbling away. "I'll be _far_ too tired after a long day of practice to bother with something like _cooking_," she grinned, looking remarkably like Fuji in one of his 'moments', and handed him the paper. "Here's the address." She flicked his cap again. "Lessons start tomorrow. Don't be late"

It took Ryoma a while to figure out that he'd been conned, and conned good. He stared at the piece of paper in his hand. So it would take away the only other free time he had in the day, but it was just cooking lessons. Two, three days at the most. No big deal.

… Yet for some reason… he couldn't shake off the feeling that he'd just walked into one of the biggest mistakes of his life.

* * *

Survey says?


	2. Day One

A/N: WOW, I honestly didn't expect this kind of response to my measly little fic. ; I'm touched, really! And I apologize for taking so long with the updates-- hopefully it won't happen again (but knowing me...).

Now be forewarned: I do not watch the TeniPuri anime. And from what I hear, Sakuno is a bit.. _different_ in it. As in, her crush is WAY more obvious. In the annoying way. So if Sakuno seems a little OOC here, please keep in mind I only read the manga, and am going off on that tangent, that she doesn't make her crush so obvious. Just this.. desire to prove herself.

Not much happening in this chapter, I'm afraid. Just setting things up for the real interaction. :3

...Right, okay. Enough of that. XD

* * *

**Recipe For Disaster**  
Chapter Two: Day One  
By Jonah

* * *

"You realize how monumental this is."

"Tomoka, it's just a cooking lesson."

The other girl's voice boomed through the phone set, so much so that Sakuno had to hold it a few inches away. "It is _not_ just a cooking lesson! Don't you realize— this is your chance!"

Sakuno frowned. "My.. chance?"

"YES!" Another few inches. "By accepting these lessons, Ryoma-sama has thereby acknowledged your presence!"

"He's acknowledged my presence." She paused. "That.. one time." She frowned some more before quickly shaking her head. "It doesn't matter either way— it's not of his own volition. He _has_ to take these lessons."

She could already see her friend waving a hand in the air in dismissal. "Details," said Tomoka, before gaining that energetic tone she had at the start of the conversation; the kind that usually meant something bad was about to happen. "Listen Sakuno, I want you to promise me. Promise me you'll take full advantage of this situation!"

"Tomoka— it sounds like you want me to.. to rape him or something!"

"If the opportunity presents itself!"

"Tomoka!"

"Look Sakuno," Tomoka's voice quickly changed to serious. "You know as well as I do that this kind of thing will probably never happen again. Ryoma-sama is going to be in _your_ house, wearing _your_ apron. Do you realize how sexy that will be!"

Sakuno had to giggle over that. "You're insane, you know that?"

"Sakuno, promise me!"

"Hai hai, I promise," smiled Sakuno. It always amused her, to see the lengths her friend would go to over Ryoma.

After all, he was just like any other boy.

…One that she just so happened to have a crush on.

Quickly, she slapped herself, bringing her hand up to make quick contact with her cheek. She couldn't think about that, not when she was to meet him in a couple of hours. The lessons were purely business— he probably doesn't even want to _be_ there, regardless of what was at stake. For as long as she could remember since she met him, Ryoma had always been about tennis. Tennis, tennis, tennis. He had no time, no room in his life for anything else. It was silly of her to worry so much about something he probably could care less about.

She sighed. Still…

It was nice to dream sometimes.

x

If Ryoma had been worried that Sumire would tell the rest of the regulars about his little situation, it would have all been in vain. It seemed that as weird as the old lady was, she was also pretty loyal. Practice the next day went by like it always did ("20 laps around the court!" with a some threats of Inui juice here and there). None of his senpais gave him any hassles (aside from the usual jeers, that is), and before Ryoma knew it, practice was over and they were all getting ready to head their separate ways.

He took a longer time getting ready than usual, something Momoshiro took apparent notice in.

"Eh? What's with you?" His face took on a triumphant sneer. "Tired you out that badly, did I?"

The only answer he received was a derisive snort. Other than that, Ryoma's pace remained the same.

Though by then, the two had managed to attract Eiji's attention, and when something's got Eiji's attention, it'll get everyone else's attention soon enough.

"Nya? Ochibi's losing his touch! OH NO!"

Case in point.

"I'm not losing my touch," Ryoma answered irritably, but the fact that he actually answered was enough of a reason to let his senpais know that something was _definitely_ up.

"Is everything alright, Echizen?" asked Oishi, reminding everyone—yet again—why he was called Seigaku's mother. His face took on a worried look. "You're not feeling sick, are you? If you are, you shouldn't have come to practice—"

"I'm _fine_," came Ryoma's curt reply, slapping away the hand Oishi been moving towards his forehead. "I have to go—somewhere—now," he muttered, hauling his tennis bag over his shoulder.

"Need a ride?" offered Momoshiro, but Ryoma merely waved him off, nearly shivering at the thought of what Momoshiro would think if he asked to be dropped off to the Ryuzuki residence.

"Nya, Ochibi, you're not off to meet some girl on a date, are you?" Eiji called after him playfully, eliciting a few sniggers and chuckles from the rest of the regulars.

Ryoma rolled his eyes, tugging the rim of his cap further down his face. Last he checked, _he_ was supposed to be the youngest.

x

Ryoma could count the number of times he'd been to the Ryuzuki residence on just one hand, and it seemed each time was destined to be against his will. Vaguely, he could recall Sakuno bringing some snacks to some of their games and, from what he remembered, they were pretty good…

Still. The fact that Ryoma was losing valuable training time to learn the wonders that is Home Economics was not lost on the boy, and it left him more than a little grumpy. He certainly hoped Sakuno wasn't expecting him to be very nice about the entire thing (though when was he really ever?).

Eventually, Ryoma found himself standing before the modest two-story home, wondering, not for the first time, if maybe he would have just been better off asking his cousin for help. Though, granted, she specialized more in Western cooking, he figured it would have still been a lot less troublesome.

Sighing the type of sigh hanged men do before the gallows, Ryoma lifted a fist and knocked, the other hand reaching up to pull the brim of his cap lower. From the other side of the door, he could hear the sound of feet shuffling, frantic and skittish. He fought the urge to groan. If Sakuno teaching was anything like Sakuno learning, he was _beyond_ screwed.

"Ryoma-kun!" The door swung open to reveal the girl, in pig-tails as usual, wide-eyed and breathing hard, as if she'd just run a marathon. "I wasn't expecting you til much later…"

"Practice ended early," came the monotonic reply. The white cap was pulled a little lower. "May I come in?"

Sakuno blinked for a bit, before she flushed, quickly stepping to the side to allow him in. "O-Of course— I'm sorry… Please excuse the mess."

Ryoma looked around. The place was practically spotless. Behind him, he could hear her shifting, practically _feel_ her anxiety radiating off of her. He sighed. He couldn't deal with her insecurities right then— he _needed_ this grade.

"Ryuzuki-san," she actually jumped at the sound of her name, and Ryoma had to remind himself that she was doing _him_ the favor here, and leaving right then and there would be very rude indeed. (Not to mention Sumire probably wouldn't like that very much, she man, did that old bat pinch _hard_.) "Shall we get started then?"

Sakuno blinked, before she nodded, hastily, and quietly led the way to the kitchen. "Are you supposed to make anything in particular?" she asked, feeling a little more like herself now that she was in her own turf.

The boy who followed her shrugged lazily, big, cat-like eyes roaming around the kitchen in silent observation. "The final consists of presenting a full course meal, desert and appetizer and all," he said casually, before flicking his gaze back to the other occupant of the room.

She seemed to be considering it for a moment, before she suddenly straightened, a strange, yet somewhat familiar glint in her eyes. "Well we have a few weeks," she said. "Is there any dish in particular you'd like to make?"

Ryoma shrugged, that lazy, I-couldn't-care-less gesture that normally would have made Sakuno lose a little of her stride, but things were different. Cooking was _her_ passion; the student was now the teacher.

"Well here," she said, smiling patiently as she brought out a large binder from one of the kitchen drawers. It was a recipe book, from what Ryoma could see, but the sheer size of it actually made him pause for a moment and blink. Sakuno flipped through the first couple of pages, apparently unaware that a binder so huge was any out of the ordinary.

"You can look through this and pick out your meals," she smiled, actually looking a little eager. "Then we can calculate and schedule dates to work on each meal." She blinked, thinking over her words. "Ah— _days_. Schedule days." _Smooth, Sakuno. Reeeal smooth._

Ryoma didn't seem to catch the slip up, however, only shrugged that shrug of his again before wordlessly bringing the binder towards him to look it through. Sakuno took that time to watch him, his eerily insightful attention turned elsewhere. She could still remember the boy on the train station, smug and arrogant and oh so cool. And though he didn't look it, Sakuno could notice it in the way he spoke to other people, the way he really _looked_ at them sometimes, that he'd grown up, maybe not by much, but by enough. Back then he seemed like such a dream, this celestial being that, no matter how hard she tried, she could not catch up to. Yet here he was, in her kitchen.

Frowning over her recipe book.

"..something wrong?"

"It's a little," he paused, seeming to search for the right word, "overwhelming."

Sakuno actually had the grace to blush, suddenly embarrassed. "Sorry," she said, "I had a lot of free time when I was a kid, so one day obaasan bought me a little cookbook and," she made vague little gestures with her hands, "the rest was history."

Ryoma shifted at her words, sharp eyes peering at her from beneath the rim of his cap. "So it's just you and Ryuzuki-sensei." A statement, not a question.

Sakuno blinked, unable to keep herself from staring back. "…yeah."

An odd sort of silence settled on the two, lasting a few awkward moments before Sakuno finally forced out a tiny chuckle. "Here," she said, turning the page and pointing to a specific dish, "this is pretty simple to make, but still fancy enough to impress your sensei."

That seemed to have been all that was needed to return things back to normal (as normal as it was, anyway), and Ryoma just shrugged, indifferent once again. Sakuno quietly blew out a breath in relief, silently thanking the stars that she'd been able to side-step that landmine.

…whatever it may have been.

x

"That's _IT_?"

Sakuno sighed into the telephone, idly twirling a lock of hair as she shifted on her bed. "Pretty much."

"You mean to tell me you spent two hours with Ryoma-sama—_Ryoma-sama_—and all you two did was _PLAN_ meals?"

"We scheduled our days too," said Sakuno, a little wounded. "Besides it wasn't like there was much we _could_ have done… It was just the first day."

"Was your obaasan home?"

"No…"

"_Sakuno!_"

"Tomoka!" Sakuno sighed, exasperated. "Look— it's not like that… Ryoma-kun's counting on me. I can't let him down just because of-of a silly little crush."

"Sakuno, listen to me," said the other girl, voice firm and serious. "We talked about this. This is your big chance, your moment! When else are you going to be able to show him what you're made of?"

"Maybe," Sakuno relented, if only to calm her friend down.

"Think about it, Sakuno."

"I will. Thanks, Tomoka."

Settling the phone back on the cradle, Sakuno couldn't help but mull over her friend's words. A little part of her couldn't help but agree with Tomoka. This was her chance. Probably her _only_ chance to show him there was so much more to her than her below average tennis skills. These lessons would, if anything, allow him to see her as more than just 'that girl'. She couldn't afford to slip up.

Heh.

No pressure, right?


	3. The Bad Day

A/N: I apologize, once again, that this chapter took so long. I actually only wrote this in the past three days, but had major writer's blockage in all the days before. Chapter three is noticably bigger than the other two chapters, so hopefully that's enough to make up for it? Here's hoping the updates continue!

* * *

**Recipe For Disaster**  
Chapter Three: The Bad Day  
By Jonah

* * *

"Ne, Ochibi-chan, what's that on your hand?" 

Jerkily, like a child caught red-handed with his hand in the cookie jar, Ryoma stuffed his left hand into his pants pocket, using his other hand to hastily tug on the rim of his cap in hopes to hide the embarrassed flush heating up his face.

On either side of the boy, Eiji and Oishi glanced over the white cap at either other, one worried, one curious.

"Echizen, is there something you need to tell us?" asked Oishi in that gentle, motherly demeanor of his. Or, at least it would have been, had Eiji not skipped over to his side to sling an arm across the taller boy's shoulders, dragging both their upper bodies down to get a better look at the hand Ryoma so hastily tried to hide.

"Nya, Ochibi-chan, it looks like a bandage," said Eiji casually, making Ryoma flinch, and inwardly curse the senpai's all too keen eyesight. He tried stuffing the traitorous hand even further down the pocket, but by that time Oishi had seen it as well, and there was no getting past Oishi when his mother hen mode was activated.

"Echizen, that _is_ a bandage," Oishi fretted horribly, and immediately reached out to pull the hand from its haven and, sure enough, there be his hand, rather sloppily wrapped up in strips of white bandages. "Echizen!" Oishi gaped at it, blinking wide, worried eyes to the hand's owner, who continued to tug the brim of his cap further and further down his face. "Echizen, what happened?"

Ryoma, whose hat looked about ready to fall off his head now, turned his head away and murmured something, making both members of the Golden Pair blink and lean closer.

"Nya?"

There was a brief, frustrated sigh before the younger boy stiffly ground out, "_I burned it_."

"You— what!"

"Nya, Ochibi-chan, were you playing with matches? Cuz those can be tricky, you know, I had to—"

"Echizen, are you okay? Does it hurt? Do you need anythi—"

"—and then neesan had to bring me to the hospital, but it was okay cuz the doctors were real nice, especially—"

"—aloe! Doesn't aloe relieve burns? It's not too terrible, is it? Second degree, maybe—" 

"—lots of lollipops too!"

"I'm _fine_," Ryoma bit out hastily, yanking his hand out of Oishi's grasp and stuffing it back into his pocket. "Just some oil splatters, that's all."

More than some, actually. In fact, it was a wonder the only thing that got injured was his hand, what with the way the oil just blew up like that. So, okay, Sakuno told him to ease the tempura gently into the pot, but they had about eight pieces, and easing all eight pieces into the pot would have taken too long, making it troublesome, so he figured why bother with doing it one by one and just chuck them all in?

At least Sakuno hadn't been too harsh on him. Had he been tutored by his Oyaji, or, shudder, Ryuzuki-sensei, he was sure they would have laughed at him like there was no tomorrow. As it was, Sakuno only gently reprimanded him by telling him _that's_ why you ease the tempura in, and had even bandaged him up herself.

That was a day ago though, and the damn splatter spots were _still_ visible on his skin. He apparently wasn't very good at bandaging either, because the damn things kept falling apart on him, which made it a lot harder to hide. 

And he'd almost made it the entire day too, without being noticed.

…_Almost._

"…oh." The older boys glanced at each other, both calming down a considerably amount. "Well," said Oishi with a relieved smile, "thank goodness it's nothing too serious."

"You still able to play, Ochibi-chan?" Eiji tilted his head curiously.

"Of course I can," sniffed Ryoma defensively. He'd played with more serious injurious before. A slightly burned hand—no matter how embarrassing it was acquired—was not about to stop him from playing the sport he loved most.

"I don't know Echizen," said Oishi after a while. "Maybe you should skip practice today and wait for it to heal better." He put up a hand before Ryoma could get the protest out. "No sense in making it worse. Go on, I'll explain it to Tezuka and Ryuzuki-sensei."

Eiji'd already turned him around and given him a playful shove in that direction before Ryoma could even put a word in.

"Have fun getting better, Ochibi-chan!" Eiji called out, in a completely innocent tone but to Ryoma, who was practically seething at the injustice of a missed practice, only heard it as a mocking laughter.

Muttering under his breath, Ryoma began the sulky trudge back to his home. It wasn't like he could have disobeyed— they were his senpais for a _reason_ after all.

Still.

Didn't mean he had to be happy about it.

"Ryoma-kun?"

…oh great. As if his day couldn't get any worse.

"Ryuzuki-san." Turning slightly, he spotted Sakuno standing a street away, looking at him curiously.

"Don't you have practice…?" she asked slowly, as if going over his schedule in his mind—which, considering who her best friend was and what club _she_ was president of, wasn't too far off.

"Got the day off," came his curt reply, with a look that simply said, 'I don't want to talk about it.'

"Oh." Sakuno seemed to be thinking of this new information, blinking away on the opposite side of the street and looking quite ridiculous, if Ryoma had anything to say about it, but, then again, he was probably still just sour from the lack of practice time.

Still.

"Well, are you doing anything then?" Sakuno said suddenly, her eyes wide and hopeful. "I was just on my way to the grocery store to pick up some more ingredients for today's lesson—" _because you burned all the other ones_, Ryoma dared her to say, but she didn't, which really just made him that much more irritated.

Ryoma contemplated telling her he'd like nothing more than to take the bandages on his hand and stuff them down his mouth, hoping he could choke on it, just a little, but he then thought she'd probably do something stupid like cry or something, and that was a lot more trouble than he wanted. So he sighed, heavy and long-suffering, before wordlessly crossing the street to stand a little beside her. 

"Lead the way," he muttered dully, conveniently ignoring the slightly surprised look she'd given him, as if she hadn't really expected him to agree in the first place. He thought it was ridiculous anyway. Like him agreeing to accompany her was _that_ weird.

…Okay so maybe it was. But he was allowed an off day, wasn't he? He certainly thought so, what with all that he'd been tolerating lately. So when she continued to give him that surprised look, he returned it with a particularly nasty one, to which she sort of squeaked over and hurriedly began to lead the way. 

"…are you alright Ryoma-kun? You seem bothered," would be what Ryoma figured to be Sakuno's attempt at small talk. He would have preferred to talk over something more trivial, like the weather or how his Oyaji was doing, but no, Sakuno seemed to have decided that it was best to just cut to the chase and get right down to business— a trait that, had it been directed at anyone other than himself, and happened on any other day, Ryoma would have approved of. As it was, it was just another reason for him to be even more annoyed that this day had decided to come along.

"I'm fine," he replied, and only just seemed to realize how often he'd been saying that lately, and how 99.9 of those times had been lies. 

Sakuno had darted a dubious glance towards him, but averted her gaze as quickly as he'd detected it, choosing instead to keep her gaze focused on a spot ahead of them.

"If you're sure then," she said, in a tone that seemed both nonchalant and concerned.

They walked on in silence then, the kind of silence that would have made a normal person feel slightly claustrophobic, but having had this type of silence for the better part of a week had only made the two somewhat immune to it (and Ryoma had far more practice with it to really care in any case).

When they reached the grocery store, Sakuno had turned to him with a slight smile, looking as if she were about to ask him something, probably something stupid like, 'Have you been here before?', before she saw the look on his face and decided that maybe speaking wasn't such a good idea quite yet.

The doors opened to accommodate them and in they walked, into the almost ridiculously bright and chilly grocery store, that smelled a little less like grocery than store. Sakuno immediately made a beeline for one of the shopping baskets stacked off to the side. She picked one up and turned to Ryoma, who'd been following a little less enthusiastically behind her, so she could smile and motion towards the vegetable area with her hands.

Grocery shopping, Ryoma soon realized, involved a lot more talking than he would have figured. Where a normal person may have made a decision in their mind, Sakuno seemed to think that speaking out loud, having an actual discussion with herself (and, once, with a potato) would make the process that much easier.

Had Ryoma actually been the type of person to care, he might have felt embarrassed standing there with her in the produce aisle, while she muttered to herself the pros and cons of taking a bigger carrot stick instead of two smaller ones. As it was, he felt nothing apart from his usual disdain for the day in general, and satisfied himself for the moment by giving glares to whoever paused to stare at Sakuno's odd mumblings.

There were a great many things odd about Sakuno, now that Ryoma actually had time to think about it. Granted, he always did find the girl somewhat off (with a friend like Tomoka, she'd have to be, right?) but he didn't really realize just _how_ off she could be. Since the cooking lessens began, he'd been spending more than enough time with the girl to notice a few things.

The talking, for instance. It wasn't just reserved for the produce aisle. No, it seemed she'd talk to herself wherever and whenever she had the chance. But it wasn't in the annoying way other people had a tendency to do, not really. Hers were quite mumblings, as if she were actually having a conversation with herself, and herself was only too delighted to answer back.

She liked to play with her hair a lot too. Usually when she was nervous, or when she was deep in thought (and mumbling to herself). She was doing that now, balancing the large carrot in one hand while the other fiddling with the wispy end of one of her long ponytails. The same ponytails he'd told her time and time again were simply too long to have for efficient tennis play, and he wasn't quite sure if she'd told him yet why she hadn't done so. Perhaps he'd ask her later.

…Not that he really cared, or anything. Just curious, that's all. It'd stop her from her mumblings in any case.

It took a while (definitely longer than Ryoma was used to) but eventually Sakuno had made her selection, and the two were out of the store and back into the street in no time. Ryoma had, by then, decided that it was best to just follow her home and get the day's lesson over with.

He hadn't expected to see Tomoka sitting on Sakuno's front steps, or the slightly scandalized look upon seeing the two of them walk up together.

"Tomo-chan," Sakuno said in the slightly airy voice of someone who was very surprised, but not at all put out. "What are you doing here?"

"We were supposed to hang out, remember?" said the other girl, who'd stood up and approached the two, her eyes darting from Ryoma to Sakuno and back again. "It was my one day not stuck babysitting," Tomoka further explained, and was now looking like a jealous girlfriend who'd just caught her boyfriend and best friend kissing beneath the school bleachers.

An active imagination, that one had. Ryoma would have been amused if the 'boyfriend' had been anyone other than himself.

"That's right," said Sakuno slowly, realization dawning on her face. "I'm so sorry, Tomo-chan, but I had to restock." She lifted the grocery bags for emphasis. She noticed then, how Tomoka kept looking back to Ryoma and forced a chuckle, like a person who's just forgotten her manners. "I met Ryoma-kun on the way and asked if he'd like to come along." 

Tomoka looked at Sakuno then, with Sakuno looking back, and Ryoma was then treated to what his cousin refers to as 'girl time'. It was a few silent moments in which both girls just _looked_ at each other, seemingly communicating with just their eyes. Ryoma found the fewer he'd have to witness these things, the better.

He wondered, then, just how much Tomoka knew about their.. _arrangement_. Sakuno was, undoubtedly, a very trusting person, so likely she would have told her best friend what was happening. Of course, he would have preferred no one knew about it at all, but he couldn't blame the girl— something about a 'girl's code of honor', or what have you.

"Can I join you two then?" said Tomoka suddenly, practically beaming at Ryoma, who, at that point, really wouldn't have cared if Atobe Keigo had requested to join them. He just wanted to get the damn day over with.

So he shrugged lazily, averting his gaze to a spot towards his left, and Tomoka, being Tomoka, read his indifference as something more enthusiastic, and proceeded to grab Sakuno by the arm and drag said girl into the house.

Ryoma followed slowly behind, sighing to himself. He wondered if he hadn't just made another big mistake.

x 

Tomoka, Ryoma soon found out, was about as bad at cooking as he was. Perhaps she was just distracted by something, but it seemed almost every thing she put on to the stove burned, and the trio actually had to evacuate the building once, at least until the smoke cleared out and the alarm stopped going off.

Sakuno was mumbling something about Tomoka not ever being this bad before, but Ryoma sort of tuned her out in favor of the nameless tune going off in his head. On his other side, Tomoka was apologizing, but not really, because she was sort of staring at him and batting her eyelashes at the same time, but Ryoma tuned her off too.

_One more hour_, was the mantra going through his head, matching to the tune he was idly tapping his foot too, so it was more sort of a song now.

It was safe to say that today's lesson had not fared so well either and it seemed even Sakuno was beginning to realize how difficult the task actually is. She'd ushered both Ryoma and Tomoka into her living room while she went back to do the dishes, and Ryoma was quite content to spend his remaining hour staring off into space. 

Apparently, Tomoka had other plans.

"So," she said, by way of starting small conversation, "how long have you and Sakuno been doing.. this?"

"Four days." Ryoma figured if he answered her questions with the least amount of syllables needed, she'd grow bored and go back to making eyes at him. Or something.

"Wow.. that's an awful long time."

"Guess so."

"How is she?"

Ryoma half-started, at least for Echizen Ryoma it was a half-start. To anyone else it would have just looked like a slight twitch of the brows and upper torso. 

"…what do you mean?" The question had caught him off-guard. He'd expected the other girl to say something along the lines of, 'Oh, that's wonderful, you're _soooo_ talented Ryoma-sama!' Nothing like the question she actually did ask him. 

"How is she?" Tomoka reiterated. She cast a side-long glance towards the kitchens, suddenly looking, not like a crazy fan girl, but like a concerned friend. It was slightly eerie. "She was so nervous about this whole thing…"

Ryoma found himself frowning at that, while his own gaze slowly followed the other's. "What's she got to be nervous about?" _I'm the one that needs the grade…_

Tomoka glanced at him then, looking mildly surprised. "You really don't know?"

Ryoma suddenly felt as if he were an outsider looking in, like the world suddenly had some great big secret and he was the only one who didn't know. He did know one thing though: Tomoka's surprised look (like _he_, of all people, should be the one to know) was beginning to get more than a little frustrating to him. So he stood abruptly, hands stiff and fisted at his sides.

"Excuse me," he mumbled out of sheer politeness, before turning swiftly and headed back towards the kitchens.

Sakuno was there, as expected, elbow deep in the dishes they hadn't completely ruined. She turned when she heard him enter and smiled, despite looking a little surprised herself. "R-Ryoma-kun… what happened to Tomo-chan?" 

"Living room," he muttered, almost sourly, and came to stand beside her. He suddenly could not meet her eyes, wide and inquisitive, so instead he busied himself by glaring ridiculously at the dishes. "Need help?" he said then, surprising both of them. But Ryoma did not want to go back in the living room, not with Tomoka looking like she did, and him not knowing what she knew. It was frustrating, to say the least, and Ryoma did not need that. He needed to keep his mind off it. He needed to keep busy.

"S-sure…" came the somewhat hesitant reply.

He nodded curtly, without even sparing the girl beside him a look, and quickly rolled up the sleeves of his jacket. Quietly the two worked, Ryoma scrubbing and Sakuno rinsing, neither one really looking at the other. Every now and then their hands or elbows would brush against each other, and Sakuno would flush horribly and look even further away from him. Ryoma would glance at her oddly for a moment, before shrugging it off and continuing with his work.

Eventually the two ran out of dishes to wash, and silence to keep, so while Sakuno busied herself by drying her hands on the apron she'd been wearing, Ryoma contented himself by staring observantly on the magnets littering her refrigerator. They had an awful lot of magnets, especially for only two people, and a lot of them were of places he'd never even heard about.

When Sakuno had finished, she sidled up beside him quietly, almost anxiously. She fumbled with the apron she now held in her hands, as if searching for something to say.

Thankfully for her, Ryoma decided he may as well speak up. "You have a lot of magnets," he stated obviously. He lifted one hand to lazily trace a magnet (Puerto Rico), his eyes never leaving them.

Beside him, Sakuno nodded, almost sheepishly. "Back when obaasan was traveling, she used to collect them." She, too, lifted a hand to trace one (Alaska), her tone sobering a little. "She'd send me one from wherever she was… sort of like a wordless postcard." 

Their fingers touched briefly, having both traced their way to the same magnet (Paris) and, for a moment, neither one of them moved.

Slowly, Ryoma looked from their joined fingers to glance at the girl beside him and found, to his utter surprise, her staring back. She was blushing again, which was certainly not an uncommon sight, especially over the past few days, but somehow… Somehow it was different this time.

But why or how, Ryoma couldn't begin to figure out, and that in and of itself was more than a little frustrating and, put together with all his other frustrations of the day, Ryoma was beginning to think that this day just earned itself the title of Bad, capitalization and all.

And _of course_ Tomoka would find that the perfect time to come in, and the two had about a half-second to realize that, huh, they're looking pretty suspicious aren't they, and, oops, this can't be good. As if they'd been burned, both teens tore their hands away and took an unconscious half-step away from the other, looking every bit as if they'd been caught doing something more than a harmless finger touch.

Ever so slowly, Tomoka began to _smile_ that knowing sort of smile that Ryoma found he rather hated now. "I'm going to be heading off now, Sakuno," said the other girl, still smiling her damned smile. "See you both tomorrow!" She waved lightly, _smiling_ still, and turned to leave, leaving the two of them with a silence that was awkward, even for Ryoma.

"I should.. be going too," he said suddenly, after a rough clearing of the throat.

Beside him, Sakuno nodded, fashioning on a smile for him. "You did better today," she said, and it actually sounded sincere.

"..Thanks," he muttered, his hand coming up to tug on his cap. "Bye." Without really waiting for her to return the good-bye, Ryoma bustled and left, closing the front door behind him with a distinct snap.

It felt good, for Ryoma, to be back outside again, when the house was starting to get so stuffy just a few moments earlier. Sighing to himself, and the headache he could already feel coming on, Ryoma shoved both hands in his pockets and began the long and silent walk back home.

x

"So?" 

"So what?" said Sakuno miserably, coiling the telephone cord around her finger again.

"Don't play innocent with me, Ryuzuki Sakuno, you know what I'm talking about! What was with that _thing_ I walked in on earlier today?"

"That _thing_ was nothing," Sakuno said honestly, sighing a little to herself. "He asked about my magnets, I told him. End of story." 

"Bull!" cried her friend over the line. "I saw the way you two looked— like kids with their hands in the cookie jar! There was definitely _something_ going on, Sakuno, trust me!" 

"Tomoka… Ryoma-kun's only interested in his tennis. I tried to prove myself with my cooking, but so far all I've been proving is how awful a teacher I am."

"You're not awful, he just sucks."

"Tomoka!"

"Seriously. Can you believe how awful I had to pretend to be just to ease his poor bruised ego?"

"Tomoka…," Sakuno said warningly. 

"Look, Sakuno, I don't know how many times I have to tell you— Ryoma-sama's a teenager, just like everybody else." She paused. "Well. Sort of. But he's male, and all males—tennis prodigies or not—eventually come to terms with their hormones. And it's only natural that he should start noticing you after spending so much time alone together! It makes perfect sense."

Sakuno made a face she was glad her best friend couldn't see. "You make him sound like some sort of animal."

"Basically, that's what all men are."

"Tomoka…," Sakuno giggled slightly.

"I'm just saying. Don't give up so easily. I _saw_ the way he was looking at you."

Sakuno scratched at her head slightly. "I don't get it— you like him too. Shouldn't you be… I don't know, angry at me or something?" 

"You're my best friend," came the honest answer, only slightly hindered by the echo of the telephone. "I really think you have a chance with him." A pause. "And besides his loud friend's sort of cute."

Giggling slightly, Sakuno allowed herself to feel a little more at ease against her pillows. "You're the best Tomoka."

"I know," came the smug reply. "Just remember, Sakuno: you're hot stuff, and this is a once in a lifetime chance. Don't give up, okay?"

"I won't," Sakuno smiled. "Thanks."

"And I want to know all the juicy details of your first hot kiss, okay?"

"Tomoka!" 

x

When Ryoma returned home that night, he was thankful to find the house empty and peaceful, save for Karupin's occasional mews. Setting his things and jacket and hat aside, Ryoma plopped down unto his bed and stayed there, a good long time, just staring up at the ceiling thinking of.. nothing.

It was a good feeling, thinking of nothing.

But the peace was short-lived because eventually the rest of the occupants of the house came home and the house was, once again, filled with the sounds of everyday life.

His Oyaji, being the annoying, fatherly type he was, poked his head in the moment he realized Ryoma was home. A cigarette dangled precariously at the corner of his mouth as he asked his son, "So how was your day?"

Ryoma thought about it. He thought of the lack of tennis, the embarrassment of his burnt hand, his overall failure in the kitchen _again_…

And then he thought of odd mumblings, and fidgety fingers playing with hair, and conversations with produce, and magnets, and finger touches, and blushing faces…

Ryoma felt himself smile, just slightly.

"Not bad."

* * *

I don't want to be one of those authors that nag readers for reviews all the time.

But feel free to read into this endnote however you like. :D


	4. The Not So Secret

A/N: Huzzah for quick updates! (What, it's quick for me!) Thanks a bunch to my new beta **Twerksie**, fellow PoT (and TeniMyu!) enthusiast, who (thankfully) did not have much work to do this chapter.

So with a flourish, I present to you chapter four: In which Jonah abuses italics, Fuji is sly, several awkward (and cliche) moments ensue, Horio is Horio, and Ryoma _finally_ starts to get it.

* * *

**Recipe For Disaster**  
Chapter Four: The Not-So-Secret  
By Jonah

* * *

The next day marked the fifth day he'd been training under Sakuno's wing, with only a still-slightly-burnt hand and an aversion for tempura to show for it. His senpai-tachi were just beginning to sense that something was indeed Amiss with their young prodigy, which resulted in most of the day's practice consisting of a new game played between them. It was called 'Who Can Find Out Ryoma's Secret' and included an on-going bet that went up to two free lunches and a less-than-amused main participant, who satisfied himself by playing his own, secret game, called 'Let's Not Tell a Thing and Piss the Senpai-Tachi Off'.

Nobody really won.

Ryoma _did_ manage to piss one senpai off, but that was Kaidou, and Kaidou's almost always pissed, and then only because Ryoma'd beaten him (again) without so much as an eye-blink, so that didn't really count.

(He still felt pretty damn good about it though.)

Towards the end of practice, most of the senpai-tachi decided to give up (some more reluctant than others— "I'll wash your car for a week!" "I don't have a car." "Nya!") which would have been great if the only one left hadn't been Fuji.

Now Ryoma'd been around the Seigaku regulars long enough to grow keen to most of their, ah, _eccentricities_. Take Taka, for example. Very nice guy, probably the nicest out of all of them (though sometimes it was left to debate between him and Oishi, and only because Oishi fretted over you so much you can't help but _think_ 'nice' about him) but give him a racket and Ryoma automatically takes a step or two away.

Same with Inui. Usually pretty okay, even when he is mumbling data to himself (and anyone willing to listen), but every once in a while he'll get that _gleam_ in his eyes (or his glasses, whatever) and you just know Inui Juice is not too far behind.

Fuji though… Fuji was an entirely different level altogether. Usually Ryoma would gauge a person by how easy it was to beat him at tennis, and while Ryoma'd beaten the tensai before, he was quite sure the older boy had only been half-serious, and quite possibly even _let_ him win. That in and of itself was unnerving, but coupled with the fact that he was almost always _smiling_ at you, with the kind of smile one felt should be complimented with a sing-song-y 'I know something you don't know', was more than enough reason for Ryoma to be wary.

As it was, when said tensai came to sit beside Ryoma after their respective games (both had won, of course, and Kaidou and Momoshiro were currently trying to patch up their wounded egos by arguing over who lost _more_), Ryoma sat up just a little bit straighter, his defenses up.

"That was an impressive match," Fuji commented amiably, as if he'd actually been able to actually watch it, considering he had his own match to play. Though, really, Ryoma wouldn't put it past the tensai. He wasn't called 'tensai' for nothing, after all.

"Thanks," Ryoma mumbled a bit, trying and failing to see through the other boy's friendly visage.

"Kaidou is certainly beating himself up over it," continued Fuji.

_More like beating Momo-senpai up over it_, observed the younger boy, but thought it best not to argue. "Guess so."

"Though I couldn't help but notice you were favoring your left hand slightly."

Ryoma mentally cursed, said hand digging a little further into the pocket it was stowed away in. The burns had just about disappeared then, enough that he could pass without the bandages on, but it was still slightly tender in certain areas. He found himself eyeing the older boy beside him apprehensively. For someone who kept his eyes closed a lot, Fuji had remarkably good observational skills.

"I do hope everything's alright," smiled Fuji evermore, tilting his head towards the younger boy slightly, with a somewhat _hinting_ tone.

Ryoma found himself swallowing slightly. Fuji Shuusuke was a man even Ryoma did not want to cross, but he had his pride to think about. He couldn't very well tell the senpai he'd burned himself cooking.

…Or maybe he could.

"Just a slight cooking accident," Ryoma muttered casually, hoping the tensai would be satisfied with the half-truth and leave it at that.

But of course, life is never ever that easy (or that kind).

"Cooking?" echoed Fuji, with the air of a fisher who'd just snagged the day's catch. "My, that's interesting. I never knew you enjoyed that."

Shifting in his seat slightly, Ryoma made it more of a point not to meet the other's eyes. "..No. Just.. felt like it that time."

"What did you make?"

"Tempura."

"Was it good?"

"S'alright."

"Made a lot?"

"Enough."

"With Ryuzuki-sensei?"

"No, her granddaughter."

Ryoma paused. Then he jerked. Swiftly he brought his eyes to stare at the older boy, who didn't so much as bat an eye (figuratively speaking) at the other boy's obvious distress.

"That _is_ interesting," continued Fuji, as if nothing had happened at all. "She's quite the cook, I'd heard. Any particular reason for all this?"

"No," Ryoma stated firmly. He wasn't about to reveal _all_ his secrets. He straightened in his seat just a little bit more.

"Hn," sounded Fuji after a moment, as if turning this new information over in his mind.

Meanwhile, in _Ryoma's_ mind, the younger boy wondered, very briefly, if hitting one's tensai over the head would actually result in one's tensai to have an acute case of amnesia, at least when it comes to things involving certain sensei's granddaughters. Of course, Ryoma didn't really humor this idea, because amnesias are hardly ever that selective _or_ specific, and, knowing his luck, he'd probably wind up making his senpai forget something vital. Like his locker combination.

If he had one, that is. Ryoma wouldn't really know.

He supposed his senpai would have to have one, though; third years usually have more books than first years did, and Fuji seemed to Ryoma the kind of sensible person who'd take advantage of a locker if he were offered one.

But that was beside the point.

Fuji was smiling just a little bit wider now, something Ryoma knew to mean either something Bad was about to happen, or something Bad had already happened, and he just hadn't figured it out yet. Either way it made the little hairs on the back of his neck stand a little and he was suddenly overcome with a great urge to run, and run fast.

"I think it's lovely you've finally warmed up to Ryuzuki-san," said Fuji cheerily.

Ryoma found himself frowning a little, despite the warning signs going off in his head. "..What do you mean?"

Fuji's smile never wavered. "Oh, you know. You're a boy. She's a girl. Life," shrugged Fuji happily.

At this point, Ryoma could only stare at the tensai like the boy had just grown another head and that head had offered him tea. He did manage a rather intelligent, "..bwuh?" though.

But Fuji only chuckled merrily, like he hadn't just thrown Ryoma for a loop.

Hastily, almost desperately, Ryoma looked around for the other regulars, particularly Eiji, because Eiji usually provided for enough distraction (yes, even for Fuji) to make a quick getaway. He was caught up in a match of his own, however, against Taka, who was yelling all sorts of obscenities and things of the like. Kaidou and Momoshiro were _still_ arguing about who was the bigger loser, and Tezuka and Oishi were talking quietly with Sumire, about what Ryoma suspected to be who _they_ thought the bigger loser was. (He personally thought they were both pretty big losers that it didn't really matter who was the bigger one or not. But he doubted either of them would appreciate the comment at the moment. They were too far away anyway.)

That left his only other option as Inui, who was thankfully just off to the side, his head bent low as he scribbled away in that notebook of his. Ryoma considered lightly kicking a pebble toward the older boy, decided that was shot since there were no pebbles around, so he opened his mouth to yell for the boy instead, when a slight movement beside him made him pause long enough for the boy beside him to calmly say,

"Inui, if I could have a moment?"

Ryoma narrowed his eyes slightly, almost afraid to turn around. He hadn't realized Fuji read minds now, but, again, he wouldn't really put it past the tensai. Turning apprehensively, he saw Fuji smiling distantly towards the taller third year, who was currently making his way towards them, still, unfortunately, scribbling away.

When he was just a few feet away, Fuji stood, racket in hand and smile in place. "Perhaps you could do me the favor of being my next opponent?"

Both Inui and Ryoma blinked. Inui, like Ryoma, was used to Fuji, and usually any gesture of Fuji's, especially the really nice ones, were something to be wary of. But Inui being Inui could not resist the chance to study Fuji some more (because that's all it was really— a study. Not a match, because both boys knew perfectly well there was no chance in hell Inui could ever beat Fuji but, given the circumstances, Inui felt he was okay with that. Data was data after all), so he nodded after another moment's hesitation.

Both boys soon left Ryoma's side to the other empty court, passing by a still bickering Kaidou and Momoshiro pair. Ryoma, who'd long since shook himself out of his surprise, frowned slightly at the sudden twist of fate he'd been rewarded. Fuji, at least for the moment, did not seem to be ready to tell the entire world his secret (what part of it he figured out anyway). So he had peace for now at least. May as well take advantage of it.

Grabbing his own racket, Ryoma stood from his seat and calmly walked towards the loudest pair on the courts.

"You both suck," he stated dully, ending their otherwise heated argument with a blink from both boys. He shifted his gaze to the louder, more obnoxious one of the two and allowed himself to grin slightly. "Grab your racket— I think there's still enough time for me to beat you too."

x

"Easy… there you go, great job!"

Sakuno was practically _beaming_ at him, almost ridiculously if Ryoma didn't feel he sort of deserved the look. Because he was doing a great job dammit. At least, it was considerably better than all his other attempts before. He hadn't burned a thing so far, and mostly everything looked about edible, so that was progress right? He felt he deserved some sort of medal. A gift certificate, at the very least.

Sakuno proceeded to put the yakisoba he'd made off to the side to cool off for a bit, all the while cooing little things like, "So proud!" and "I knew you could do it!"

Ryoma, of course, ate this all up, but in the typical Echizen Ryoma way, which was looking as if it all bored him to death, with only just the briefest hint of a smug smile.

The day had been, surprisingly, quite pleasant. Weird encounter with Fuji aside, Ryoma'd come out the victor in all his matches of the day, a math quiz was postponed due to the teacher forgetting the papers at home, and now he was improving on his cooking. Life was good.

…Alright so Ryoma still hadn't come any closer to figuring out what the hell the tensai was talking about, but that was alright because it didn't bother him one bit. Not at all.

Because Ryoma couldn't care less, really. So what if he was starting to get that sinking feeling again? The one where it felt like he was the only one who hadn't caught on to the world's biggest secret. Didn't bother him, nope.

…Okay maybe. But just a little.

"Something wrong?"

Ryoma started slightly. Sakuno was watching him curiously, her hands pausing over their work on the dishes. She looked concerned, and Ryoma found himself feeling slightly guilty over that. She worried over _him_, after all, and just because he couldn't figure out something that was apparently very obvious to everybody else.

"No," he told her, but Sakuno did not look convinced. She put the last of the pots on the rack to dry and turned to him, idly wiping her hands along her apron as she did.

"You look troubled." She paused then, looking like she just realized what she said, flushed a little, and hastily looked away. "I-I mean, not that it's any of my business or anything… Sorry."

Ryoma merely waved a lazy hand in the air and lifted his shoulders in an equally lazy shrug. "Just have some stuff on my mind, that's all."

"Oh, the tournament in a few weeks," Sakuno nodded knowingly, taking the seat across from him.

Ryoma frowned a little, oddly put off by the assumption. What, did _everyone_ think his entire life was tennis? …Okay, so he sort of gave off that impression, sure, he understood that. …And, okay, so _maybe_ it wasn't entirely that far off from the truth, but, still, the fact that someone would just naturally assume that's what was always on his mind bothered him.

Or… was it just because it was Sakuno doing the assuming?

But what did that have to do with anything? It wasn't like she was special or anything. She was just Sakuno. The coach's granddaughter. He never cared what anyone thought before, why was it suddenly such a big deal now?

…His head hurt.

"No," said Ryoma firmly, and thankfully missed the surprised look on Sakuno's face. His own face twisted slightly, the hand that waved coming up to rub vainly at his temple.

Surprise subsided into concern again, and Sakuno half-stood, half-leaned over the table. "Ryoma-kun? Are you okay?"

"…Headache," he muttered lamely, but at least it was the truth.

There was a shuffle of movement and the sound of a chair scraping lightly against wood in front of him, and Ryoma looked up in time to see Sakuno had dragged the chair towards the kitchen cabinets, and was currently balancing rather precariously on it, with on foot on the back of the chair and the other on the counter, while trying to reach for something in the uppermost cabinet.

Ryoma had about a half-second to think, _Well_ that _can't be safe_, before her foot slipped and her body jerked and toppled.

Now, Ryoma did not consider himself to be a very chivalrous boy. He didn't remember the last time he opened a door for a girl, or pulled her seat back for her, or offered his jacket up in the case of a puddle. He personally thought that was all too troublesome, when the girl could very well do these things herself (and, for goodness' sakes, just step _around_ the damn puddle anyway), and besides— he did not know very many girls to actually have the opportunity to be chivalrous to.

But when a person is falling from a pretty high position, it didn't really matter to Ryoma if the person was a girl or not. Point was that you did everything you could to help. Because if you didn't, you'd have a hell of a time explaining it to certain grandmother coaches, who had a tendency to pinch hard and grow more sinister than Fuji and Inui combined.

At least, that was what Ryoma was telling himself, the moment after he'd dashed from his seat and ran forward with his arms held up. He hadn't really expected to catch her, maybe just sort of ease her fall a little, but you couldn't exactly complain over a good job well done.

It was always a very interesting position you find yourself in after you've just saved a life (or, at least, prevented a life from being considerably injured). Not that it happened to Ryoma very many times, but that's what he figured anyway. Especially considering the fact that he was still holding Sakuno in a pretty interesting position—what some people would call 'bridal style', but for the sake of Ryoma's sanity, he would _not_ be one of those people—and neither of them were really doing anything more than stare at each other.

His hat had somehow fallen during the scuffle too— as if he didn't already feel oddly exposed.

"S-Sorry," Sakuno finally mumbled after a while. (Her face, Ryoma noted, was a rather alarming shade of pink.) She held up a small medicine box and shook it lightly, smiling up at him weakly. "…But I have medicine for your headache now?"

His headache. Right. "…Thanks."

Slowly, he set the girl back down on her feet, who immediately proceeded to smooth out her skirt and hair, and basically do just about everything she could possibly do without having to look at him. Ryoma wasn't really sure whether to be thankful or hurt about that.

She held out one pill for him to take, pointing vaguely at the glass of water on the table and _still_ not looking at him. Ryoma, by this time, was feeling slightly dazed about the entire thing, and numbly reached out for the pill.

Except he got her hand instead.

And he thought Sakuno's face couldn't possibly get any pinker.

Hastily, he moved his hand, grabbed the pill, and popped it into his mouth, swallowing harshly. It was an awful time going down, but he didn't dare make a grab for the glass of water, for fear of what he might accidentally grab _then_. "…Thanks," he mumbled again, and this time found it was he who could not meet her eyes.

"You're welcome," came Sakuno's so much smaller voice.

There was a slight scuffle of feet. Then silence.

"I should…," Ryoma said after a while, pointing weakly towards the door.

Sakuno managed to smile despite the flush. "Okay…"

"…Yeah."

The silence that followed remained until Ryoma broke it, turning jerkily to hastily shuffle out of the house.

Once outside, Ryoma released the breath he hadn't even been aware of holding, and quietly wondered if things could possibly get any worse.

"…Echizen? That you?"

Apparently it could.

Ryoma really had to wonder about his luck some days. Because really— of all people, of all times, why _him_, why _now_?

Maybe if he just turned and walked away, the boy would get discouraged and leave him alone.

"That _is_ you! Oi, Echizen! It's me, Horio!"

…Or maybe he would be even more determined, run up to Ryoma, and slap him on the back.

"Hello," said Ryoma dully.

Horio was already craning his neck around to peer at the house he'd just walked out of. "I didn't know you lived here, Echizen. Eh? Isn't this Ryuzuki-sensei's place?" He turned inquisitive eyes towards Ryoma. "You getting extra lessons or something for the tournament?"

Ryoma stared back, unblinking. "…Something like that."

"Oh," said Horio, completely convinced. "Well that's cool. Anything for the win, eh?" Another slap on the back, and Ryoma found himself seriously considering what moron thought that gesture to be acceptable male behavior.

Oh well. He figured he should at least count his blessings. Who knew Horio was so gullible?

He started to walk away then, with Horio unfortunately following behind, when the door to the house opened suddenly, and Sakuno practically came flying out, his hat being waved frantically in one, outstretched hand.

…He _thought_ his head felt lighter.

The split second it took for Horio to turn, Sakuno to freeze, and Ryoma to swear seemed to last an eternity. Very slowly, Ryoma pivoted in his spot to meet Sakuno's eyes, with a look that simply informed her (if she hadn't been aware already) that she just made a very big mistake.

Numbly, she held out his hat.

Wordlessly, he took it back.

Amazingly, Horio didn't say a thing.

For about four point two seconds.

"…the hell?"

"Thanks," Ryoma muttered quickly. Shoving his hat back on, Ryoma turned and, in true testament to how desperate he was to get away, reached out and grabbed Horio's wrist. He then proceeded to bodily drag the smaller boy away from the house, away from Sakuno, a hasty "Bye" pushed out between gritted teeth.

It wasn't til they were about a block away that Horio finally managed to wrench his arm out of Ryoma's remarkably vice-like grasp. Ryoma, too, was forced to stop, because he only just realized he'd been walking in the wrong direction.

"Geez, Echizen," said Horio, looking sour as he rubbed at his reddening wrist. "The hell was that for? You act like you and Ryuzuki-sensei's granddaughter got something to hide or something." He snickered at this for a bit, at least until he saw the _look_ on Ryoma's face, to which he stopped snickering abruptly and stared wide-eyed at Ryoma instead.

"You _are_!" gasped Horio, eyes wide and scandalized. But instead of being horrified or incredulous, Horio actually looked.. well, _excited_. "Awesome! Are you two having, like, an affair or something? And you hafta' keep it from Ryuzuki-sensei because otherwise she'll pull you from the team for tainting her pure granddaughter?"

Ryoma stared. "I.. _what_?"

Horio began nodding fervently, a certain _sparkle_ in his eyes. "It's just like the dramas on television! Oh, Echizen, that is _so cool_!"

Unconsciously taking a step back, Ryoma slowly shook his head. "The hell are you talking about? It's _nothing_ like that!"

The sparkle faded. "It's not?"

"No! The hell's wrong with you?" Looking every bit the grumpy teen, Ryoma proceeded to walk back to where they came from. He just needed to go home, take a nice, long nap, and forget the entire day even happened.

"But— she had your hat!" insisted Horio, who apparently thought he had more of a valid say in the matter than Ryoma did.

"Because it _fell off_," Ryoma explained through gritted teeth.

"No way," snorted Horio. "Your hat only falls when you're playing a hard game. And, Ryuzuki-sensei's granddaughter or not, I heard she stinks at tennis."

Ryoma felt a little bristle of something like anger at the comment. "She does not _stink_," he muttered sourly. "She just… needs a little work," he finished lamely.

Horio glanced triumphantly at the prodigy. "Defending her honor now, are we?"

The look Ryoma gave him would have made Akaya Kirihara turn heel and run.

Horio, unfortunately, only found this as more proof to his assumptions. "A_ha_! You _are_ having an affair!"

"_Not_," Ryoma rolled his eyes, walking even faster.

"Not even a little one?" insisted Horio, hot on his tail.

"'Fraid not."

"No secret meetings?"

"Nope."

"Romantic getaways during the weekend?"

"Sorry."

"Stolen kisses in the hallways?"

"Not even a little one."

Exasperated, Horio threw his hands in the air and cried, "Hell— do you even _like_ the girl?"

Turning swiftly, Ryoma opened his mouth, fully prepared to answer negatively again, when he realized he didn't have a negative answer and stopped. Dead.

…_Did_ he?

"Of course not," said Ryoma, almost vehemently. He met Horio's stare dead on. "_Of course not_."

With another swift turn, Ryoma broke out into a hasty run, uncaring whether or not Horio followed. He managed to make it all the way back to his house without ever stopping, and by then his heart was going about a million beats per second.

What scared him the most, though, was that most of it wasn't from the run.

* * *

Unfortunately, my muse has gone on an All Review Diet, and simply refuses to function unless she gets _at least one_ review a day (preferably in the morning, because breakfast is the most important meal of the day). 

I _told_ her to stay off the brownies.


	5. 1 Step Forward, 2000 Steps Back

A/N: So, obviously, I PHAIL at life. DX But it's here, just like I promised! We're nearing the end, though, folks; possibly only two more chapters til we reach the conclusion. Woe!

But in the meantime, enjoy chapter five, in which Ryoma and Sakuno go on their very first date! ...Sorta.

* * *

**Recipe For Disaster**  
Chapter Five: One Step Forward, Two Thousand Steps Back  
By Jonah

* * *

By the time day seventh rolled around, rumor that Echizen Ryoma was 'losing it' spread across the school like wildfire. It didn't help matters that the subject of the rumors himself acted a little out of the ordinary, or that the prior day's practice consisted not only of one, but _two_ near losses for the tennis prodigy, and anyone who's seen Echizen Ryoma in action knew that for him '_near losses_' just didn't happen.

Thankfully, the rumors had been contained just within the school, thanks to a certain President of a certain fan club, who threatened certain bodily harm to anyone who dared let the information leak out.

That day's practice was a strained one, as most boys pretended to go about their routines as if nothing was out of the ordinary... even though it was pretty damn obvious what was on everyone's minds. 

Looking more than a little agitated (though to be fair, he had good reason), the youngest member of the Seigaku regulars quietly made his way to the benches, hat tipped low over his eyes as he pointedly ignored everyone's discreet-yet-oh-so-obvious stares. With just one simple 'heroic' gesture his bad day had grown to a bad week, and his bad mood was now a bad attitude. Even Fuji seemed to sense the gravity of the situation, and wisely kept his playful airs to himself. There was really only one person brave enough to approach Ryoma about it, and only because he just couldn't find it in himself to leave the boy looking so dismayed.

"Echizen?" The tiny smile on Taka's face could only be described as meek, and had it been any other person it would have looked out of place on such a large, somewhat intimidating-looking man, but on Taka, it was nothing out of the ordinary. "Is everything alright?"

When no answer came, Taka merely steeled himself and daringly took the seat beside the younger boy. "If there's something wrong," he offered gently, "you should tell us. You know we wouldn't laugh or judge you or anything..."

Now people only ever reacted to Taka when he spoke like that in two ways— one, was to freak out because homigosh this huge guy's acting nice he must want my lunch money quick run hide! or two, feel extremely rotten, cave, and proceed to fidget around guiltily while babbling something, usually incoherently.

Ryoma proceeded to choose door number two. 

"It's nothing, senpai," he awkwardly murmured from beneath his cap, "really..." He briefly wondered if suddenly just up and running would save him from further questioning.

He doubted it.

"You've been acting sort of odd lately... Are you sure?"

"I just…have a lot of things on my mind." Technically, it wasn't a lie.

"You could always talk to me about it," the larger boy offered, "or Oishi," he added brightly. "Oishi's a lot better with words than I am." 

"Thanks, Taka-senpai," Ryoma was quick to say, shifting uncomfortably under the other boy's concerned gaze. "I'll be fine though, just a little distracted, that's all."

Now Taka was really worried— Echizen Ryoma _never_ got distracted. 

"Well," the taller boy tried one last time, "that's not so bad then, right?" He offered the boy a little smile, to which Ryoma just stared blankly at. "I mean," Taka clarified a little uneasily, "it's just a matter of getting rid of the distraction then."

Ryoma shifted, sliding his gaze from the other boy's wavering smile to the empty tennis courts before them. "Getting rid of it," he echoed, a little wonderingly.

Taka nodded, feeling a little more sure of himself now that the shorter boy actually seemed to be responding. "Everything else should fall back into place after that."

But Ryoma had stopped listening, his large amber eyes slowly tracing the white lines of the court.

Slowly, a plan began to form…

x

He caught her just as she was leaving the school grounds, her long ponytails whipping around as she turned abruptly, at the sound of her name.

"Ryoma-kun?" Little pink spots tinted her cheeks, bright enough that Ryoma paused, seemingly captivated, if not a little confused, by them. "Is something wrong?" she pressed. "I was just on my way home to prepare the kitchen. I was thinking we could try—"

"Actually," Ryoma spoke up suddenly, after a rough shake of his head, "I was thinking we could skip today's lesson."

Dark brows knitted together in confusion, Sakuno's lips turning downward slightly. "Skip it..? But—" you _need_ it, were the words they both knew to be true— "why?" she asked instead.

To that he gave what he hoped looked like a casual shrug, removing a hand from his pocket to gesture vaguely around them. "It's a nice day," he wondered if it sounded as lame to her as it did to him, "we should spend it doing something else."

She looked around briefly, thinking it actually looked a little like rain, but decided it was probably best not to say anything at all. She wasn't quite sure where he was getting though, so she looked back at him curiously, tilting her head just so. "Like what?"

Ryoma, in the meantime, was wondering if that moment could possibly be any more troublesome. "I don't know," he nearly snapped, but managed to catch himself just in time. "Something, anything." He searched through his memory for a popular 'hang out spot' for kids his age…

And realized he had absolutely nothing.

It was a slightly startling thought, though what was perhaps more startling was the fact that it was even startling to him in the first place. What did he care if he knew where all the kids were hanging out nowadays anyway? It was useless information, he'd never have need for it, ever.

...Except maybe for now. Right.

"Isn't there some sort of carnival going on?" he vaguely remembered hearing his cousin speak about it.

"Carnival?" Sakuno was nodding slightly, remembering Horio making quite a fuss about it the other day (though, she had to think about it, what _didn't_ Horio make a fuss over?). "Tonight's its last run around this district, I think." It was hard to tell with Horio really— sometimes he spoke too fast she wound up meshing his words together. 

"We should go, then," Ryoma said, in what he hoped was a casual voice.

"We.. should?" Sakuno wondered a little suspiciously if Ryoma was just trying to get out of lessons… It wasn't like he'd done anything embarrassing lately! …Sort of. 

"Yeah," Ryoma started nodding, that made it more convincing, right? "It sounds like fun." Ooh, he twitched when he said that, didn't he?

Fortunately for him, Sakuno didn't seem to notice. "I…suppose it does..." In all honesty, she'd been thinking of going, but Tomoka was always busy babysitting and— 

Hold on.

Did Echizen Ryoma just ask her out on a date?

...No! No, of course not. Echizen Ryoma didn't date, least of all a girl like her!

And yet… it _sounded_ like a date.

But no! It couldn't be, no, it was just some wishful thinking on her part, silly Sakuno, really, how ridiculous. 

Well no one ever said _she_ couldn't think it was. Yeah, that was alright...

"Um, sure!" 

"Perfect." Ryoma let her lead the way (because damned if he knew where it was, exactly), completely oblivious to the rising flush on her neck and cheeks as he was far too preoccupied with his own thoughts…

_Get rid of it._

x

Miles away, Taka paused from cleaning the counter of his father's sushi shop to glance up briefly, a thought occurring to him.

"Huh." 

"Something wrong?" his father asked, looking up from the grill.

Taka turned slowly, an odd look on his face. "Ever get the feeling that you just did something really, really wrong?" 

His father pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Nope!" he answered cheerfully, then went back to his work.

Taka turned back to the counter, a troubled frown working its way to his lips. 

"Huh," he said.

x

Perhaps it would be best to explain—or at the very least, try to explain—Ryoma's train of thought at the moment. Tennis genius though he may be, there were still some things in which he proved to have nothing more than average knowledge at.

Things like the way of women, for example. (Though some may argue _no one_ knew a thing about them.)

To be fair, the boy was only in his first year of middle school, where young boys were only just beginning to show some interest in the opposite sex. Although, the way he was going, it wouldn't have surprised anybody if he never showed any interest at all. Tennis was his life, his one and only true love. His parents knew that, his classmates knew that, and more importantly— _he_ knew that.

So it was only natural that when a certain bright-eyed, pig-tailed _female_ classmate of his began to take up more of his thoughts then tennis or even schoolwork, he would assume he was simply ill, and needed to be cured immediately.

By going on this 'date', he will have accomplished what young males generally set out to do with young females, and therefore, would have gotten it 'out of his system', so to speak. Theoretically, it made perfect sense— if you had an itch, scratch it.

Unfortunately for Ryoma, he was scratching at it the wrong way.

x

The carnival was just how Ryoma thought it would be— loud, crowded, and annoying. It was barely even sundown and already the area was bustling with bodies, mostly teenagers, all bubbling over with excitement. The overall atmosphere made his lips curl distastefully, a light scowl marring his features.

Sakuno, for her part, tried her best not to look like a deer that'd been caught in the headlights of some large SUV that was barreling towards her at 100 mph. She wasn't doing much of a great job, but she felt she could hardly be blamed, considering where she was and _who she was with_. Where was that reporter when she needed him? Surely this was something newsworthy!

Oh, if Tomoka could see her now… 

She'd wonder why the hell Sakuno was standing a full five feet away from Ryoma.

Quickly, but in what she hoped was the in most imperceptible way possible, Sakuno sidled up closer to the boy, so that the distance between them was a mere foot, at the very most.

"So," she thought to bring up small talk, because that's what people do on dates, right? "Have you ever been to a carnival before?"

"Once," Ryoma replied curtly, the scowl on his face deepening. He'd been nine, still in America, and his father had thought it'd be funny to watch him scream like a baby on one of those roller coaster rides. He didn't like to talk about it much.

"This is my first," Sakuno said quite honestly, looking not at all ashamed or affected by it. Indeed, by the time she finally found herself calming down, the lost and frightened look in her eyes was replaced by awe and curiosity. She looked all around them at the dancing lights, still glowing softly as the sun hadn't fully set. She reached out to lightly touch the leg of a large teddy bear hanging down from the roof of a game booth that they were passing by.

Ryoma, in the meantime, found that bit of news a little hard to believe. "You've never been to one before?" Even _he'd_ gone to one, albeit against his will. 

"Weird, I know," Sakuno blushed faintly, but shrugged despite it. "I guess it was never really a priority before." The look on her face, though, clearly said that she was indeed beginning to realize, if she hadn't already, that she had apparently been missing out.

It was the sort of look that made Ryoma want to remedy whatever ailment it was that was troubling her.

"It's nothing great," the prodigy said instead, hunching his shoulders forward as he carefully avoided her gaze. Hastily, he quickened his pace, settling on an unmarked path that planned to cut straight through the carnival, sticking to the plan— get in, get out, get rid.

If only Sakuno hadn't spotted that ball-throwing game, and let out that annoyingly girlish squeal at the sight of one of the prizes hanging down from its makeshift ceiling.

His eyes fell on the small object she was pointing so excitedly at— a New Zealand magnet. It sat there, past the fluffy dolls, past the shiny jewelry, past everything else any other girl may have found exciting enough to squeal over. He was suddenly brought back to Sakuno's kitchen, to a refrigerator littered with magnets of all kinds, of a number of places... except New Zealand.

"_She was too busy to send me a magnet then,"_ Sakuno had told him once before, during one of those times when it grew so quiet between them, that all she had to do was whisper and she'd be heard.

Sakuno said nothing now, of course, but it was there, bright and clear and hopelessly obvious in her eyes.

He hesitated.

She turned to him, looking as if she'd already made some kind of peace with it, with the lack of it— with the defeat.

Wordlessly he stepped forward, and did not bother to question himself when he fished in his pocket for his wallet, and started to play.

x

Naturally, Ryoma's prodigal hand-eye coordination was not merely reserved for the tennis courts. He proved that quite well when, at the end of his round, he'd managed to knock all three stacks of milk bottles with the first balls he'd been given.

Sakuno clapped wonderingly as the vendor congratulated him, and he tried his damnedest to look indifferent to it all. That became difficult, however, when instead of the magnet, the vendor handed Sakuno a large teddy bear instead. 

Ryoma stared at it, looking eerily similar to a goldfish in a tank.

"She wanted the magnet," he told the man simply, as if that alone should explain things.

The vendor, for his part, looked slightly sheepish. "That's one of our consolation prizes," he tried to explain, and scratched at his head. "You won all three rounds."

The young Echizen wondered at that. He'd never once had a win in which the outcome was not something he planned for or desired. The thought that playing to his fullest, that being the _best_, was the wrong solution... It baffled him. 

"Ryoma-kun..," Sakuno began slowly, looking a little worried, "it's fine, you don't have to—"

Ryoma slammed another bill on the counter.

x

Deliberately losing was apparently a lot harder than it seemed. At least it was for Ryoma, where that concept was not only foreign, but downright alien. Not once in his life did he ever imagine he'd have to _lose_ to _win_ something. It didn't even make sense grammatically! 

It was over four rounds later and Sakuno was barely able to hang on to the oversized bears he just couldn't seem to stop winning. He was really starting to get a little irritated. He tried not looking, not throwing hard enough— he even let Sakuno throw one! No matter what those damned bottles just seemed to keep falling! Weren't these things supposed to be rigged? Where was society coming to nowadays, really!

Gritting his teeth, Ryoma pulled out yet another bill. The vendor actually looked a little frightened— but then again, who wouldn't? Ryoma had on a look that would have put both Fuji and Kirihara to shame.

Sakuno, however, simply looked torn. A part of her wanted to tell Ryoma to stop, it's not that important, she didn't want it that badly anyway; but the other part of her wanted him to continue, because all of that would have been a lie anyway, and how terribly romantic was it that Echizen Ryoma was doing this for her?

Still... it probably wouldn't be so romantic if he blew all his money on a silly throwing game. And it'd be even _less_ romantic if he wound up even grouchier for it.

"Ryoma-kun," Sakuno tried once more. "Really— you don't have to do this. It's.. just a magnet."

Large amber eyes came to stare at her then, peeking out through dark strands and the white bill of a cap. "You want it, Ryuzaki," he stated plainly. "If you want something, you shouldn't hold back." 

Now it was Sakuno's turn to stare, her own eyes wide and unblinking. "O-oh…" she said then, face colored from a fresh blush, and said nothing else after that.

It wound up being two more tries before Ryoma finally threw lousy enough to get what he wanted, and all three participants parted ways looking more than a little relieved.

"Thank you, Ryoma-kun," Sakuno blushed horribly, pointedly avoiding his eye, "for winning that magnet for me..."

That's when it hit him— what he'd done, and all for _her_.

Something inside Ryoma seemed to surge then, like something that had been slumbering inside him had suddenly awoke, ready and rearing to get out there and live. It wasn't necessarily unpleasant... but horribly frightening, and in more ways than one.

It was the type of feeling that prompted someone to do something really, _really_ stupid.

"I didn't do it for you," came his hasty words, so quick and harsh that it surprised even himself. "It was training... to sharpen my control and accuracy."

That the lie itself made more sense than the truth... Ryoma had to wince at that.

"O-oh," Sakuno's blush seemed to get only worse— but the light in her eyes was quickly fading. "I.. see..."

Silence befell the two teens then, just as the sun was going down, leaving a chill in the air. The silence itself wasn't anything outstanding, no calm before the storm, no pregnant pause that would lead into some big, pivotal revelation. It was painfully regular, with only the sounds of their feet shuffling and the wind rustling to break it.

There was nothing to keep Ryoma's mind from wandering, from playing back and rewinding all that had happened that day; he remembered Taka's advice, how very odd and out of place they seemed now, after he'd executed it; he remembered the look on Sakuno's face when he asked her, the way everything about her seemed to just brighten up; and now that low, sinking feeling that didn't seem to promise anything but imminent doom.

They got to her house, just as the last of the streetlights were lit, and the silence between them grew unbearable. She smiled, but it was an odd one, and didn't look him in the eye as she murmured a soft, "Good night." No 'thank you', no 'Ryoma-kun', just that. A good-bye.

Then she was turning away, heading towards her door. For the first time in a long time, Ryoma found himself staring at someone else's back...

And feeling like he lost more than just a game.

* * *

Um. Better late than never? 8D;; 


End file.
